Of Masks and Acting
by The Figure in a Mask
Summary: Harry and Draco each suffer terrible summers and upon entering their 7th year, once again the masks are up and the roles are stepped into. However, they soon realize the other is the only one who can see through the masks M for caution summary inside
1. Unique suffering

A/N; first of all, I would like to state I have little to no idea where this is going, and it is currently a case of letting the story flow. shrug I'm hoping I just don't get a sudden case of writers block .

Summary; Draco, Harry, Ron and Hermione each suffer through terrible summers, and upon arriving back at school deem it fit to put in place firm masks. However, when the Slytherin calls truce with Harry, little by little their masks all begin to crumble…

Warnings; abuse, mentions of (but not really graphic descriptions of) rape, slash H/D, don't like don't read

Disclaimer; Please trust me on this one, if I owned Harry Potter I would _not _be here writing this

This story disregards HBP! (I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!) But it is set in their 7th year…

* * *

Draco apparated to the usual location in one area of the manor grounds, not even looking around to see if anything had changed since the last year. Nothing ever changed. This was a Malfoy house.

His friends had been rather surprised to say the least when they found out Draco could already apparate at his age. Draco had laughed at the fact they couldn't, and sneered some high and mighty reply. He was a Malfoy. Malfoys' didn't have age restrictions, and his father had insisted he learnt how to apparate before he could barely walk in a straight line. It was a necessity.

He left his trunk where it was, assuming one of the many house elves would collect it. He just hoped they would hurry, he didn't really feel like walking into a room lacking…the lived in look.

The thing was, Draco noted as he walked across the vast grounds towards the manor, his entire house lacked the 'lived in look'. His parents were clean freaks, and Draco had fallen into the habit of keeping his room just as neat out of fear of a beating. The effect this had was that Draco almost craved a more relaxed life-style, but could never really fall into one even at school. He frowned slightly as he thought about that, then shook his head slightly. What did it matter anyway?

Draco let himself into the house easily, slipping in almost un-noticed. His mother was waiting in the entrance hall, her hands clasped together in front of her and her back stiff and straight. She let a trace of happy emotion flicker over her face, before it returned to her usual stony mask. Draco wasn't sure if he cared any more.

'Hello dear,' his mother embraced him shortly, barely giving him time to wrap his arms around her before pulling away.

'Hello,' Draco replied, not bothering to hide his annoyance that his mother couldn't even care enough to welcome him home properly. Then he frowned to himself. His father had done something to her again, he could see the bruise on her shoulder were her robe slipped a little.

'Sorry your father couldn't meet you, he had an important meeting to go to…'

'Yeah, yeah, I know. He ran off to throw himself at the feet of a hooded man and kiss his robes just to be sent to kill a bunch of muggles. Joy to the-…' Draco inserted a rather rude word in the end of his sentence, smiling slightly when his mother bit her lip to stop a laugh.

'Draco!' Narcissa snapped, finding it hard to even look angry at her son 'You shouldn't say such things about your father,'

Draco gave a short nod, before letting her lead him into the kitchen, making light conversation about school. Draco decided to make the most of her eagerness to talk; he knew that as soon as Lucius returned from his 'meeting' his mother would retract into a deep and well built shell, covered in green and black paint.

* * *

As soon as he was let into the house, Harry grabbed his trunk and heaved it up the stairs, hiding in his room. He looked around, making sure they hadn't put up any traps, before grabbing the most important things out of his trunk and slipping them under his bed in case his uncle decided to hide it in the cupboard or lock it somewhere…out of his reach.

Among these things was his wand, which he tucked safely into his back pocket, covering the bit that poked out with his baggy t-shirt. True, he had been previously warned to _not _do this, and to not even carry his wand around muggles but…somehow Harry never felt safe without it. It was just one of those things. Besides, if he waited just a week or two he would be officially allowed to use it and, to put it bluntly, his threats would easily be made reality. Harry couldn't wait.

He quickly let Hedwig out of her cage, then opened the window to let her out. Hearing his uncle yell from some where downstairs, Harry flopped down onto his bed. He could have become slightly deaf over the school year, right?

He heard angry footsteps thudding up the stairs, and glared at the door, hoping that somehow it would understand his message to _not _let his Vernon in, unless it wanted to awake in the morning to find itself in a skip. Harry had noticed that doors just seemed to float in skips. Put an empty skip on a street, and within a week there would be at least one door and a couch or bits of cardboard that didn't belong to the owner of the large container.

The door would have shivered at the look, had it not been held firmly in place by a few pieces of metal that the door now decided it would blame should anything happen to it. The little metal screws _did_ tremble, though it was masked by the tremble everything found itself under when Vernon pounded upon the door. The screws breathed a sigh of relief that no one saw their fear.

Vernon tried to open the door again, twisting the door knob in every possible direction. He couldn't get his small brain around the fact that it wouldn't open. He vaguely wondered why before pounding his fist into the wood again, missing the door's moan of pain.

Harry smirked, seating himself on top of the heavy trunk now positioned in front of the door. He vaguely wondered how long it would hold before leaning his head onto the wood of the door, only to find his head shaking when Vernon's fist came into contact with the wood occupying the space between him and his punching bag.

* * *

Ron frowned as Ginny dashed past him, pushing eagerly to the front to get the first hug from their father. He rolled his eyes at her behaviour, vaguely wondering if she was upset even in the slightest about her and Harry's break up some time in the middle of the year. His thoughts were removed when Molly told the only two Weasley children left at home that they weren't going to be doing much for the first few weeks, and that both adults would be making frequent trips to visit the Order.

Ron had asked when he could see his brothers. His mother had pursed her lips before smiling sweetly, changing the subject. Now he was vaguely wondering if they had even stayed in contact over the year. His thoughts changed again when he asked when Hermione and Harry could come around. Ginny had gone all quiet, but stayed to listen to the answer. Mrs Weasley pursed her lips again, then smiled sweetly and quickly changed the subject.

* * *

Hermione banged her head against her desk in her room, closing her eyes and covering her ears in an attempt to block out the shouting downstairs. She sighed when it didn't work, and picked up her quill again, quickly checking she had not smudged the ink on the parchment bellow her. She smiled happily when she noted it was still perfect, before frowning again as she heard her name mentioned in the argument.

This was not unusual for her, her parents arguing that is. They had fought a lot since she returned, and she vaguely wondered if they had argued whilst she was at school. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, glancing over the open page of the book on her lap. She scribbled something else down on the parchment, before slamming the quill down in anger. Her parents were just annoying her now. They were distracting her. She hated it.

Hermione had always thought of her family as the perfect family. Two adoring parents, letting her be who she wanted to be alone, and no pestering siblings. They never fought, never agued, and rarely disagreed. She vaguely wondered what had changed before hitting the 'play' button on her personal C.D player, jamming the headphones down over her ears. She nodded in satisfaction and picked up her quill again.

* * *

Harry set the letter down on his desk, giving a short sigh. It was just Hermione informing him that there was nothing interesting happening at home, and asking him how his holiday was.

He glanced at the clock on his wall, then out the window at the dark night sky. He watched a nearby street lamp flicker, before plunging that area of the quiet street into darkness. He didn't dwell on it, his thoughts wandering to the events at the end of the last year.

Harry jumped when he heard the door slam open downstairs, then shut again sending angry vibrations into the walls. Harry slumped into his chair, knowing what it meant. Vernon was home. And he had been drinking. Harry had previously wondered when his uncle had started drinking, but had never cared why. He had his own troubles, he was sure his uncle was upset about loosing an important client or something.

Dudley and Petunia were asleep, and Harry knew what that meant. He glanced automatically at the bruises on his arm, before slamming his head down onto his desk. He was sure this night would not end well.

When his uncle stormed into Harry's room just moments later, Harry did his best to defend himself. He had yelled and threatened, then resorted to pleading. Each attempt had been in vain, and a very drunk and red-faced Vernon had gone on yelling about him being a freak or something of the like, and proceeded to beat the sixteen-year-old with everything from his fists to a nearby shoe.

At the end of it all, he had left Harry in a crumpled heap on the floor. Harry could taste the blood in his mouth, and wiped the back of his hand over his brow. He scowled in disgust at the blood on his fingers, and spat the blood out onto the floor. He would clean it later.

Stumbling to his feet and ignoring the pain coursing through his tired body, Harry sat down at his desk to write his reply to Hermione's letter, answering her question as to how he was and how his holiday was going.

_I'm fine, the holiday's same old, same old.

* * *

_

Draco wasn't an idiot, and knew when his father was angry. All his senses always told him not to argue with his father, but he never heeded the warnings where his mother was concerned.

On this occasion, he had walked into the room to see the end of a vicious quarrel, and witnessed his father beating his mother angrily. Narcissa didn't say a word, didn't try to defend herself, let Lucius do what he wanted. She knew the consequences of defying him.

Draco knew the consequences to. He had watched the proceedings for a few moments, before scowling darkly. All thoughts of how he should behave had flown out the window, and he found himself charging at his father in a rage, stepping between him and his mother.

Lucius had stopped only briefly to register his son was defying him, before lashing out and sending the teenager across the room. Lucius whipped out his wand, and Draco could only stare into his father's cold eyes as curse after curse rained down on him, not letting himself scream. Not once did he cry out, not once did he moan or sob, and not once did he look at the weeping form of his mother in the corner letting Lucius do this to him. He told himself he didn't care, and that it didn't matter.

When he returned to his empty room later that night and found his legs gave way beneath him, Draco decided through his choked sobs that it probably did matter a very slight bit.

* * *

Hermione wasn't stupid. When her parent's arguments had not subsided within a few weeks, she knew full well it wasn't something simple. She had stopped vaguely wondering, and started thinking deeply. Divorce.

It had been on her mind for a good week or so, but she couldn't let herself believe her parents would go through with it. When she walked in on her mother one night stuffing clothes into a travel bag, she suddenly found herself believing easily that not only were her parents going to divorce, but for once there was nothing she could do about it.

And for the first time in her life, Hermione wished she had been wrong.

* * *

Ron didn't like having a big family. He detested the far too big hand-me-downs, he hated sharing a room and he hated having only a small house for them to be crowed into.

But most of all, he hated his too small and very noisy house to be empty and suddenly quiet. He hated not having anyone to moan to other than his little sister, he hated having no male siblings to fight with, and he hated not having hand-me-downs to refuse to where.

And the thing he hated most, was that he finally understood the joys of having the big family he had once despised.

* * *

Draco had taken care to stay out of his father's way on those rare occasions when he returned, but never had much luck. Somehow he nearly always ended up in bed for a day or two after he left.

He knew what was coming. Even though he was not of age, Lucius wanted Draco to join the dark lord. In his eyes, Draco had a duty to uphold the Malfoy honour, and serve the rightful leader of the magical race.

Draco had a mind of his own, his own ambitions and, surprisingly enough, a will to live. He did not like being told what he was to do, and even if he did he would not have agreed. He may have put up a typical Slytherin mask to others at the school, but he did not share their views. His mother had been sure to teach him his morals, even if in secret.

It was the same with most of his friends to. When around other students, they let set up a cold stone wall and plastered a sneer or a smirk on their faces, but behind closed doors they had emotions. They could laugh, smile, enjoy themselves and have fun without a single harsh comment. But they also knew how to cry, get upset and worry for others. They were loyal, they looked after their own and defended the weakest. It was annoying to have to pick on the ones they usually defended during school hours, but it was necessary to not arouse suspicion.

It was hard to tell which Slytherin's were like this at first. First years often found it as a shock that often the common room was much like any other's, but only after curfew. It had been a shock to find that as soon as other students couldn't see them, most Slytherin's got on with their day to day lives in peace. What a pity no other house could see it.

Of course, every house and family has a bad egg, and Slytherin had its share of them. They were the ones in large and loud gangs that enjoyed picking on others to know end even when only Slytherin's were around, and they were shunned by their house for it. Teenagers often think what they want to think, not what their parents teach them.

Draco simply refused to take on the dark mark. He would not tell his father this; fear of a worse beating stopped him from doing so. But he told his mother, who agreed whole-heartedly, and had dropped her emotional mask and hugged her son in pure delight.

After that, she had been making secret arrangements for him to leave. He wanted to help her, save her to, but she had said she was in too deep. She already had a back-up means of escape for herself –though she refused to tell her son what it was-, and Draco just hoped it was enough to save her from Lucius.

* * *

Throwing another retched lump of soil over his shoulder and wiping the back of his hand over his brow, Harry decided he was in a bad mood. Just two days till his birthday, and his relatives were increasing his work load by the day. He was currently digging up an old flower bed, and had been instructed to plant more when he had finished digging it up. He leant on his shovel, cursing the hot mid-day sun for being 'too damn hot'.

He noticed Petunia peering at him threw the kitchen window, and threw her a smile, waving cheerily. Petunia frowned and scurried off to find her husband, most likely to complain Harry was not busy enough.

When Harry returned into the house a lot later that night, Vernon was waiting. The sun had gone down hours ago, and the stench of alcohol filled the air. He could only guess what was waiting for him.

'And just what do you think you're doing in here?' His uncle asked, slurring his words slightly.

'I've finished,' Harry said, crossing his arms. He then bit his lip, deciding to be daring and face the punishment 'Unless you can think of another pointless job you're to lazy to do.'

Harry smirked slightly as the colour of Vernon's face changed rapidly, going through all the dark colours and ending on purple with a tint of green. Harry stared into his eyes, then gulped. He had a feeling he shouldn't push his luck much more.

'IS THAT HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT US THEN, EH YOU LITTLE BRAT? WE GIVE YOU FOOD AND SHELTER IN OUR HUMBLE HOME, ASKING FOR NOTHING IN RETURN WHEN YOU SHOULD BE OUT ON THE STREETS, AND THAT'S ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY?'

Nothing in return? Harry thought over the words in his mind. No, he was quite sure that wasn't true. Almost positive. In fact, definite.

He felt the pain shooting down his arm and his uncle gripped him tightly, dragging him through the kitchen and slamming him into a wall.

Vernon filled the time shouting a string of curse words, yelling about how worthless Harry was and how ungrateful he was for all the effort he and his wife put into keeping the house running. Harry didn't even feel the first punch when it came, but he heard the loud slap of Vernon's fist colliding with his cheek.

When Vernon proceeding to keep throwing punches and then force him down onto the floor, Harry was pretty sure he couldn't wait for his birthday to come. When his uncle pulled down both their trousers and turned the teenager onto his front, Harry became positive. And then he felt the pain, Vernon yelling at him all the way through and hitting him repeatedly in the back whilst riding his own wave of pleasure, and Harry bit his lip in agony, causing it to bleed.

At the end of it, Harry had just enough strength left to throw a punch at the man who had taken away his virginity, and watch as the man stumbled backwards into a table, yelling out in pain.

Then Harry blacked out.

* * *

Hermione had begun to wonder how her friends were doing. She had gotten almost identical reply letters to the two she sent out to the boys, both telling her they were fine and that their holiday was each 'same old, same old,'. Hermione often wondered whether it was okay for her to notice so much, much she did notice things all the same.

On this occasion, Hermione noted how strange it seemed that neither had complained about anything. Harry had sent no news of his scar, and Ron had not said a single bad word against a sibling. Hermione was worried.

She had feared for some time now that something was going on in their lives, but she was currently too trapped up in her own to dwell on the fact. Now she needed a distraction from her life, and liked nothing more than to curl up in bed and dwell on how her friends' lives were.

She imagined Ron would be relatively happily, getting mostly what he wanted and enjoying a quidditch game with his brothers. She imagined Harry would be working for his relatives, but would relax at the end of the day with his nose in a quidditch book, not having to worry about what was going on around him.

Hermione was lucky if she could sleep before two with all the shouting.

* * *

Ron was not happy. He had been left alone again to care for Ginny, and was beginning to think his parents simply didn't care about him any more. They were rarely home, and Ron was left to look after the house and cook for his sister. Ginny rarely helped out, often visiting friends from school. Ron often scowled in jealousy.

* * *

Looking into his father's eyes and spotting the raging fire there, Draco instantly knew he had made a mistake. Well, to put it correctly, he now understood how _big_ a mistake he had made. But in his mind, he was glad to have done so. Using a lot of curse words his mother was sure he shouldn't know, Draco Malfoy had just told his father that not only did he not want to become a death eater, but that Lucius and his mates could fuck off out of his life.

Seeing as Lucius stood in front of him now with all his fellow death eater mates behind him wearing shocked looks, Draco gathered it was probably a bad thing to say.

He felt in his pocket for his wand, wondering why he had not previously drawn it. As pulled it out, the twenty or so death eaters mimicked his actions. Lucius laughed. It was a deep, harsh laugh, almost telling Draco that if it wasn't a joke he would be severely punished.

Lucius turned to the death eaters 'Ah, teenage humour these days! My son is such a joker!' The death eaters took his lead and began to laugh as well. Draco scowled at them, and recognizing the trade-mark Malfoy glare they stopped at once.

'I am not joking, Lucius,'

'I am your father, Draco, and you have no say in this matter!' Lucius snapped, raising his own wand 'You will join the dark lord, and you _will_ serve him with your life!'

Draco shook his head defiantly.

'I should hope I will loose it before joining him!'

The anger came in waves from the death eaters, and Draco found it hard to stand his ground. Checking in his pocket once more that his trunk was safely there in a miniaturized form, Draco smirked.

This earned him a punch in the gut from his father. A string of curses landed upon him, and Draco recognized vaguely the call of 'crucio' before feeling his body racked with unbearable pain.

When the pain stood, Draco got timidly to his feet, and grinned.

'Goodbye, Lucius,' Draco drawled, still smiling. He reached to the ground, picking up an empty crisp packet that had lay forgotten. And then he was gone, still scarred from an only day old fight, the port-key taking him far away from his now enraged 'father'.

* * *

When Draco arrived at his destination, he stumbled to the floor on his sprained ankle. That was days old, but it still hurt. He wiped away the blood that was now spilling from one of his cuts, and quickly tucked away his wand.

The blonde pulled himself to his feet, looking around. Instantly recognizing Hogwarts castle in front of him, he gave a grim smile and nodded. Yes, how typical of his mother to send him here. He gave a small shrug, checking in his pocket that his miniaturized trunk was still there, then set off in the direction of his home away from home.

* * *

A/N; so, here it is, the first chapter! So you know, you have a choice; long chapters (9/10 pages) once every two weeks or shorter chapters (6/7) pages every week. Your choice! Reviews are appreciated!  


	2. Are the gods truely smiling?

A/N; okay, apparently it's relatively short chapters (probably either this length or a bit longer every time) once a week. **Thanks **bunches to my reviewers; you're input is valued, and I really don't mind if people review just to say it's okay or even that they hate it! Anyway, enough babbling, enjoy!

Warnings; abuse, mentions of (but not really graphic descriptions of) rape, slash H/D, don't like don't read

Disclaimer; I do not own Harry Potter or any of the merchandize etc etc etc, only this plot. P.S I would like to state for the record that if I _did _own Harry Potter I would currently be sitting somewhere on a nice, hot, sunny beach reading one of my favourite books whilst thinking up a _good _plot for the 7th book and re-writing the 6th book. (I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!)

This story disregards HBP! (I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!) But it is set in their 7th year...

* * *

Draco gave a short, rather annoyed sigh, stepping onto the gleaming train with his usual grace. It was ridiculous, he had claimed, going to Kings Cross station to catch the train just like every other student when he was already settled in at Hogwarts. It would surely be easier for him to just join the feast when everyone arrived. Draco snorted. No, of course not, Dumbledore had replied in that calm but annoying voice of his, that would only arouse suspicion. Draco rolled his eyes. At least if he had stayed at Hogwarts there wouldn't be the risk of being caught by Lucius. Dumbledore had told him Lucius would be a mad fool to attack him on the platform. Draco had retaliated that his father _was _a mad fool, attacking him on the platform was one of the less crazy things the man would indeed do. 

The blonde hauled up his trunk, frowning at the unusual lightness, then set of down the train in search of a compartment. He found one empty somewhereright at theend of the train and lifted his trunk onto the rack above before seating himself by the window. Waiting in his boredom for the train to leave the station, Draco reflected on his past year at Hogwarts.

His sixth year had been rather uneventful to say the least. Sure, there had been some little death eater attacks and raids, the odd death here and there, but even Potter - the boy-who-just-wouldn't-bloody-die - didn't have anything to do. There was no attack on the Gryffindor hero or his band of followers, there was no attack on the school itself or Dumbledore and there had been no attack on the village of Hogsmede. Potter had probably been bored out of his damn skull.

* * *

Harry pushed his trolley ahead of him lightly, running a hand through his messy black hair as he walked down the length of the platform. He was grinning happily, glad with the knowledge that no matter what he would _not_ be returning to the Dursley's. Uh uh, no way. 

He hadn't been allowed to stay at the burrow; the Weasley's had apparently spent much of their holiday at Grimmauld place, and Harry was glad at not having spent the time there…even if he was a little angry he hadn't been asked to go stay there. The house, he had been informed, was his now, even if he was still letting the Order use it. Did he really need to be invited, or could he just turn up? Harry hadn't really liked the idea of just showing up unannounced, so he stayed in his tiny little room in Privit Drive.

He had heard from Hermione though that she hadn't fared any better, as she too had been stuck at her parent's house all summer. Although, she had reasoned, it wasn't that bad, they had promised to take her away for a week or two so he was sure she had had a nice holiday with her family.

Harry frowned very quickly in jealousy, then shook his head. He was being stupid, his holiday hadn't exactly been terrible. It had been better than some of his previous holidays, and his uncle had only gone 'all the way' a few times before his birthday; Harry refused to remember that those 'few times' had been over a period of two days, and also refused to remember the fact that he was currently wearing glamour to cover his bruises.

Putting up his happy mask again, Harry scanned around the platform for his two best friends, spotting the group of red-heads easily in the crowd. Not wanting to go over for fear of seeing Ginny, Harry spun around to search for his other friend instead. It wasn't that he was avoiding Ginny, really, it was just…they had had a rough relationship. Sometime during Harry's sixth year they had gotten together as a couple, and it had been good enough for a little while. However, a few weeks and a few very short snogging sessions later Ginny had accused Harry of not caring for her.

It wasn't true exactly; Harry did care for her; like a sister. And in reality, he didn't really feel comfortable snogging the girl he cared for as his sister. In the end, he had had to explain that to her; that he did have feelings for her, but it was more brotherly love than anything else. She had huffed a little and walked off muttering and cursing, then a few days later he and Ron almost walked in to her and some other guy snogging in a darkened corridor.

So, he wasn't really avoiding her, just trying to talk to her as little as possible. He shook his head slightly, then spotted Hermione's figure running towards him.

"Harry!" She cried happily, hugging him tightly when she was close enough "Oh, I've missed you, how are you, did you have a good summer, oh, have you been eating enough;you look terribly thin?"

Harry blinked rapidly a few times, then couldn't help himself and burst out laughing at her motherly nature and rolled his eyes.

"Well, I didn't quite catch all of that, but it's good to see you to,"

The pair managed to slip into a pleasant conversation easily enough, and they were soon joined by a rather bouncy Ron who hugged and kissed his girlfriend upon seeing her whilst merrily clapping Harry on the back.

The trio set off to find a compartment, the two boys congratulating Hermione when she told them she was head girl that year; though they both told her they hadn't expected anything else and said she was the best one for the position (this of course led to a lot of blushing on Hermione's behalf).

And so the three put away their trunks before heading off to a rather boring and uneventful prefects meeting (Harry had been made prefect the year before as a few other the other students hadn't returned to school that year). The head-boy was some Ravenclaw the three had never met before; Jonathon Hannigon. He seemed nice enough, managing to impress Hermione during their short introductory conversation before the meeting.

At the end of the meeting, the trio quickly left the compartment, none of them particularly wanting to hang around for too long before heading back to their own compartment. Once inside, Harry slid the door closed with an almost silent sigh of relief. He wasn't particularly eager to hang around with too many people, and was glad to be away from the crowd. Rubbing his hand absentmindedly over one of his bruises that was covered by his sleeve, he sat down across from his two friends as they began to banter away innocently about the summer.

In truth, Harry needn't worry about any of his bruises showing, he had discovered a pretty nifty glamour charm some years previously that hid the bruising well and he had luckily managed to find in time to perform before leaving Privit Drive. The rest of the summer hadn't exactly been as nice as he had thought it would have been after his seventeenth birthday; he had figured that maybe he could storm out – wand and trunk in hand – just as midnight struck and spend the rest of the summer at the Leaky Cauldron but his uncle had… interfered. On the day of his seventeenth, his uncle had gone around boasting to Petunia about how he was going to make sure to throw the teenager out and leave him for dead; but later that night seemed to have changed his mind about 'the freaky little whore' and managed to take away Harry's wand.

The teenager shuddered at the memory of the painful torment that followed that night, and squirmed a little in his seat. In the end, about a week before school started, Harry ended up nearlyripping the house apart to find his wand and then had just upped and left without warning after nearly waking the whole street with his frantic ruckus. After that, he really _had _spent the rest of the holiday in one of the small rooms at the Leaky Cauldron; not that he was going to tell Ron or Hermione that. He laughed at the thought of telling them anything to do with his life in Privit Drive; he would never call it home again. And one other thing was sure; never would he return, ever.

* * *

It had to be stated, it just couldn't go unsaid. Draco was _bored_. In fact, the word bored did not quite cover just how bored Draco was, because in truth the seventeen year old was bored shitless. Actually, not even that phrase covered it, but as he was lacking in the grammar department – translated to; he just couldn't be bothered to think - it would just have to do. 

Rooting through his trunk for one of his books, – any book would do – Draco gave a frustrated sigh. He just knew something was going to happen that year, or even during that train-journey, and knowing his look it wouldn't exactly be brilliant.

Glancing down at his watch as the train set off from the station, the seventeen-year-old swore loudly and jumped to his feet, rushing down the corridor, whilst somehow managing to retain his normal grace, to reach the Prefect's meeting on time.

* * *

Standing on the platform whilst saying good-bye to his family, Ron growled softly under his breath. He hadn't been out of the Order's headquarters in a _long _time, and now he was only allowed to stand there and hug the same damn people he had been stuck with for most of the bloody summer. 

Spotting Harry and Hermione talking a little way off spurred the slightly-more-than-usual-energetic Ron into action and after giving his parents one last hug he sped off to join them.

* * *

Hermione's parents had managed to not argue for the entire car journey as they drove to drop the teenager off at the station; only Hermione almost wished they _would _have an argument as the stifling silence was more than a little frustrating. But, no, her parents were still blissfully ignorant of the fact that she had even the slightest idea that they were suffering marital problems and were determined to keep it that way. 

Clambering quickly out the car, Hermione silently thanked whatever God was looking out for her when her parents regretfully told her they wouldn't be coming in. The bushy haired teenager hugged each of them close, then quickly entered the station.

* * *

Draco sighed shortly as he closed the door to his compartment, thanking whichever god had _finally _decided to be nice to him and made sure there hadn't been any trouble in the meeting. Even better, no stupid first year had decided to take over his space, and the compartment remained peacefully empty. 

He picked up the book he had flung carelessly aside in his hurry, and made himself comfortable in the corner by the window. Drawing his knees onto the seat to cross his legs, Draco was soon happily involved in the ever thickening plot of the muggle tale.

* * *

Quidditch. In the magical world of wizards and witches, the sport was one of the most popular among both youths and the elder people that combined to create the population. It was a central point in the lives of many teenagers and children, and could be used as a simple way to pass the time during sunny afternoons or lunch times at school. However, there was only so many things about quidditch one can happily sit and have an interesting conversation about. 

Harry Potter liked quidditch. He liked watching quidditch, reading about quidditch, playing quidditch, discussing tactics for quidditch and generally talking about quidditch. However, afore-mentioned Harry Potter disliked having to sit and listen to his best friend try to convince his girl friend that quidditch is in actual fact both a pleasing and educational way to pass the time.

Harry Potter also disliked listening to previously mentioned girlfriend arguing with her boy friend (afore-mentioned best friend), telling him that attempting to converse with the giant squid would probably prove to be a much more practical and educational way to pass the time. It was, in short, anannoying way to pass the time.

Harry Potter soon found himself living through the two things he disliked the most in a stuffy compartment with his two best friends as they each continued to argue their separate points of view whilst paying absolutely no attention to him.

The dark haired teenager sighed, banging his head back against the seat in a pitiful and unsuccessful to rid himself of the on-coming head-ache. Giving a frustrated growl, Harry finally got up to leave.

"Hey, where're you going, mate?"

"Ah, um…just out. I'll be back in a minute or two,"

Ron didn't even acknowledge his friend's statement, already saying something else to Hermione next to him. Harry rolled his eyes, and slipped out of the compartment to find another; preferably an empty one.

* * *

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's claim, completely abandoning the book she had been previously trying to read. 

"I've said it before, Ron, there is absolutely nothing educational about quidditch and is therefore a waste of precious time,"

"It is too! You learn all sorts of skills…Hey, where're you going, mate?"

It was then Hermione realized her other friend was currently standing by the door of the compartment, and turned to look at him curiously as well. Harry began to say something as a reply, but Ron had already thought up something most likely ridiculous and irrelevant to add, so he most likely didn't hear it.

Hermione half watched (trying to keep listening to Ron at the same time) as the dark haired boy rolled his eyes and left the compartment, shutting the door with a soft click behind him.

The teenage girl looked back over to her boyfriend, who was now using enthusiastic but complicated hand gestures to illustrate a point and tried to follow as best as she could what he was trying to explain. Pushing the thoughts of Harry out of her head – but filing it away under 'suspicious event' so she could mull it over later – Hermione concentrated fully on the red-head in front of her.

* * *

Draco smiled as he reached his favourite part of the book, knowing most of the events by heart. He had read it so many times during his childhood and early teenage years, but his father had burnt his only copy of it when he had found it during the blonde's third year. Draco had almost cried when he found out; he loved many types of literature, and the fact that his father had burnt it just because the author was muggle…it was unjustifiable. His mother had rolled her eyes, patted him on the back and sent him on his way. However, the next holiday he had returned home to be greeted by a first edition copy of the very same book. Draco had been joyous for many, many days afterwards, and had always kept the book hidden since. 

He heard the door softly slide open, but was too lost in the book to bother to put on a mask; he figured it would be some first year of little importance so what did it matter if he was smiling slightly?

However, when he heard a graceful, masculine but very familiar voice fill the room, he looked up with eyes wide open in shock, instantly putting up a mask and placing a scowl firmly upon his face. However, it was too late, and the damage was done. The person stood in the doorway was now smirking in that funny little way of his that was more like a silly grin then anything else. Draco let out a small growl, mentally kicking himself for the mistake. This would not be a good journey.

* * *

Harry wandered down the train, sliding doors open at irregular intervals but never finding an empty compartment. He was soon at the end of the corridor, and slid the last door open softly, praying it would be free. 

However, to his surprise, one lone person was sat inside. That, however, wasn't the fact that surprised him. What surprised him was the fact that the blonde who occupied the compartment _should _have been surrounded by his cronies, and the blonde _should _have instantly jumped up and insulted him as soon as Harry had gotten the door open. But, he didn't.

That wasn't the most surprising thing. The most surprising thing was that the boy who _should _have done that was doing the one thing he _shouldn't _have been doing. He was sat, quite peacefully, reading a book, a small smile playing on his lips and his hair gracefully falling over his eyes in the most angelic way possible. Harry gazed at the teenager for a moment or two, wondering vaguely if he was hallucinating. Then, making the best of the situation, Harry decided to take advantage of such a rare moment.

"Malfoy, are you _smiling_?"

* * *

A/N Ah, there it is, the second chapter! Sorry for any mistakes, this chapter hasn't of yet been beta-d. Sorry guys! Anyway, reviews are appreciated! 


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